


The flames from which we crawl...

by nepentheosileus



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Can be read as romantic though, Gen, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepentheosileus/pseuds/nepentheosileus
Summary: Yūsaku wakes from a nightmare in hysterics. Kusanagi is there to help.





	The flames from which we crawl...

_the flames from which we crawl_  
_are the deadliest of all_

_the ash of which we turn_  
_is the reason why we burn_

* * *

 

Yūsaku holds his deck over the fire, perspiration breaking out over his skin as his hand shakes, reluctant. He needs this, craves it, he knows what he has to do but somehow he just can't bring himself to let go, his fingers frozen over the little elastic cards that hold the horrors of his past. The sick feeling in his stomach tightens, grows, swallows him whole and suddenly he's doubled over, heaving, forcing the fear, the memories, from his body like vomit.

Sparks flee from the flame, soaring, and find refuge on his stuffy night clothes. The little embers burn him; he barely notices them. His cards are scattered across the floor, an ocean of remembrance surrounding him, haunting him. His eyes flick about nervously, rapidly -- he can feel the eyes of his monsters on him, their piercing gazes crawling all over his body until he's suffocating under their scrutiny. He doesn't want them to see. He's betrayed them, or perhaps they've betrayed him, for neither of them could have been very happy as they were forced to… to…

Yūsaku heaves, his body shaking violently like a leaf in the wind, and his insides burn like the fire dancing along his skin as he forces everything out. The heat is sweltering. Desperate, Yūsaku sheds his night clothes.

His body cries out in glee as it is exposed, rescued from the flames that consume him, and he hurriedly dumps the discarded fabric into the fire. He watches them crumple and curl and eventually turn to ash, his fingers clenching around handfuls of cards as he wishes he could do the same.

He wants it all to end. He wants to burn as well.

“Yūsaku -- _shit_.”

There's the rushing of footsteps across the floorboards, bare skin against hard wood, and suddenly arms are wrapped around him and pulling him away from the fire. They lift him up, up and away, and he can only watch as the light grows dimmer with distance.

Kusanagi drags him back to his bed. “Oh, Yūsaku,” he's saying, a thoughtless murmur under his breath, and Yūsaku closes his eyes to the sound. He's propped onto the edge of his bed. “Damnit, I should've known… should've stayed…” Kusanagi is mumbling to himself now and somehow the words are soothing. Calming.

The world is trembling so aggressively now that it's hard to keep his balance. Yūsaku digs his fingers into the blankets beneath his clammy palms, desperate to stay righted, and it's only minutes later after he's calmed considerably that he realizes the world hadn't been trembling at all; it had been him the entire time.

“Here,” Kusanagi presses a warm mug into his hands. “Drink.”

Yūsaku does as told. The first sip is tentative. It scalds his tongue and, deciding he likes it, Yūsaku quickly gulps it down.

“Easy,” soothes his friend, and a hand is running through his hair gently, guiding him slowly to exhaustion. Kusanagi tucks him back into bed, pulling the covers up over his bare body and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“...Sorry, Kusanagi-san.”

The man just smiles at him. “Don't worry about it,” he says, and stays by his side until he falls back asleep.


End file.
